


Freedom Riders

by Lilypipo



Category: Pompeii (2014)
Genre: Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Happy Ending, Love, Minor Character Death, Non-Sexual Slavery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:13:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lilypipo/pseuds/Lilypipo
Summary: They ride hard for hours, until the ruined city was no longer visible, only the mountain in the distance. They ride until the horse nearly collapses and the darkness around them comes from the night and not the ash clouds.--What could have happened if the horse had been fast enough.





	Freedom Riders

**Author's Note:**

> Here goes, my first ever fic. I really hope you like it. No beta, so any (spelling) mistakes are mine. Please let me know what you think, constructive criticism is welcome!
> 
> Disclaimer: no profit is being made from this story, all the rights to characters etc. of Pompeii goes to the original owners.

They ride hard for hours, until the ruined city was no longer visible, only the mountain in the distance.

They ride until the horse nearly collapses and the darkness around them comes from the night and not the ash clouds. Milo feels as tired as the horse looks, and thinks Cassia only remains sitting because he is holding her upright.

He steers the horse into the woods until he can no longer see the road and then a little further. When Milo finally halts the horse and slides stiffly off its back, Cassia almost falls forwards without his back to lean against. He quickly lifts her off of the horse and carries her to a tree near a stream. As he puts her down he is once again struck by how delicate she is – elfin like in appearance, even with all the dirt and ash covering her.

“Why have we stopped?” She asks, as she closes her eyes from fatigue.

He smiles. “I’m tired. And the horse needs to rest.” Looking around him one more time to make sure nobody is near, he walks to the horse and starts rubbing it down. The poor beast is trembling from exhaustion. Milo strokes its neck – without this horse, they would have died for sure. Guiding it near to Cassia, he ties the reigns to a low hanging branch. The horse bends down to drink from the stream next to the tree, and relaxes into sleep.

Milo breaks off a large leaf, folds it and uses it to scoop up water from the stream. “Here, you have to drink.”

Cassia opens her eyes and takes the water-filled leaf from him. She swallows and coughs. He takes the leaf from her and repeats the process a few times until she signals that she has had enough. He then attends to himself. Never has a drink of water tasted better.

“Where are we?”

“Somewhere to the southeast of Pompeii.” The road had taken a turn away from the coast and into the countryside. He sits down next to her. “Rest, my sweet. I’ll keep watch.”

“What about you?” She is as stubborn as she is caring, he has noted that before.

“I will wake you in a couple of hours. You can keep watch then.” He wraps his arm around her shoulder and guides her downwards, so her head rests in his lap. He strokes her hair as her breath evens out quickly into sleep.

Keeping an ear out for anyone approaching, he takes this time to think about what to do next. He knows with all his heart he has to protect Cassia. Not just because she saved his life and he owes her, but because she is the first ever person to give his life meaning besides the killing of fellow condemned men. He cannot go back to being the way he was, not now he knows there is so much more he can feel, that he can enjoy.

That begs the question of where to go. If they stay in the Roman empire, they can never stay together. He rubs over his right underarm subconsciously. The mark burned into his skin stands out even after all these years – indicating him as a slave. He can never pass for a free man – not anywhere under the rule of Rome. Atticus’ dreams where only that: dreams. He mourns for his friend, but does not kid himself into believing as he did, that he can ever become equal to a free Roman within the Roman empire.

He glances down at Cassia. She has a chance to go back to her life. A life of comfort and luxury, of safety and ease. However much it pains him to admit it, he can never provide for her the way she is accustomed; the way she deserves.

\--

When Milo wakes her it is nearly dawn. Cassia feels disorientated and cold. Her pretty dress, bought especially for the games, is ruined and not providing much protection against the chill of night. 

“Here, take this.” Milo hands her a knife from his belt. She lets the weight of it settle in her palm, holding it uneasily. It is much larger than any knife she ever held before, which were only meant for the carving of the meat on her plate. She looks at him questioningly, feeling frightened.

“If someone approaches, wake me up. This is just in case, alright?” He smiles and cups her face. “I will keep you safe. Don’t be afraid.”

She nods and he lays down to sleep. She remembers him stroking her hair as she slept, and quietly does the same for him until he falls asleep. As he sleeps she walks around to stretch her stiff muscles. She mourns for her father and mother, for her sister in all but blood Ariadne, and all the others who had died during the end of the world. Nonetheless, she is sure they would want her to live, to be happy. She looks down at Milo. He had now saved her life more times than she cares to count. While it would be easy for her to go back to Rome, to the house her parents had bought there, she knows he cannot come there with her. He is clearly not a freeborn Roman, and if she announces to the world that she is alive, she will never be permitted to stay there alone with him.

After the destruction of Pompeii, all of Rome will think her dead. She is free now from all the pressures of society. Everyone that knows he is a slave is also dead. They could be together, if they play their cards right.

She walks to the stream, takes off her ruined dress and tears a strip from the underside, tying it so it forms a small bag. She then puts all the jewellery she is still wearing – her belt, the clasps on her shoulders, her earrings, necklace and armband – into the makeshift bag and weighs it in her hands. Disappointed, she puts it back down. It is not nearly as heavy as she had hoped. Not enough to get them away from the capital, never mind enough to start a life somewhere far away from Rome.

As she washes the soot off her face and starts to scrub her dress in the stream, she thinks deeply.

\--

Milo wakes a few hours after the sun has risen over the horizon. Cassia stands next to the horse, whispering to it. He notices that she looks much cleaner, if still a little tired. When she sees him sitting up and looking around, she speaks.

“No one came by. We are all alone here. Here, please take this back.” She walks towards him. She hands him the knife, and then presses something else into his hands. He looks down and sees to his surprise it is berries.

“I found a bush nearby. My mother’s cook grew berries just like these in our garden. She used to let me help her pick them. My mother was not happy when she found me with juice all over my best dress.” Cassia smiles sadly at the memory.

He eats them quickly, feeling hungry. After finishing them, he is still hungry. He says nothing and scrapes his throat awkwardly, not sure how to broach the topic of him leaving her – even if it is for her own good. “Listen, Cassia. I have been thinking about what to do next. I cannot stay in the Roman empire. But I can take you to Rome. You can be safe there.” He doesn’t say what is to become of him; to be honest, he doesn’t know.

“Milo, I have also given the matter thought. I do think we should go to Rome. I do not intend to stay there. We can sell the house my parents had bought, and with that money we can travel far from there. We can start a new life somewhere far from Rome, where we can be free.” She speaks. Then, more softly: “Please, don’t leave me alone.”

He clears his throat, a bit overcome by emotion. “You’d do that, for me?”

“No,” she smiles, “I’d do that for us. Don’t ever think I am taking pity on you, Milo. You saved my life yesterday, and I want to live it. If I go back to Rome, and have to be pressed back into the confines of the social upper class, I will die anyway.” She walks over to him and grasps his hand. “I want to live with you. Together we can be alive, not just exist.”

He understands what she means, and guesses that in a way, she was as much a prisoner as he had been. He kisses her fiercely. “Then, I will never leave you, as long as we both live.” This makes her smile; it lights up his world.

“Let’s find a village where we can find some food.” He does not know how he will pay for that food, but they need to eat. Cassia surprises him when she shows him her jewellery and says they should use that to pay for food. He doesn’t ask if she is sure: they have little choice. It won’t be what Cassia is used to, but it will stop the rumbling of their bellies. If the village is large enough, they could also find a horse trader. This will stop their horse from tiring out too much and will mean they can travel further, faster.

After he quickly washes in the stream, he saddles the horse and says: “I think we should ride northwest. South of here there isn’t much land left, and we don't have a way to pay for a crossing by sea.” He could always row on a galley, but she… Cassia nods her agreement.

He climbs on the horse and hoists her up behind him. He doesn’t think that before yesterday she has ever spent more time in the saddle than short rides around Pompeii for fun, and knows today will be rough on her. While he hasn’t spent much time in the saddle in the last few years, he has never forgotten the long rides his people used to make and feels completely at home on horseback.

Cassia however doesn’t complain all the way to the nearest town, which turns out to be half a day ride northwest of their campsite. From there, they can see the smoke rising from the mountain, and all the villagers they come across ask them for news from Pompeii.

“It is all gone, all destroyed. We only just made it out.” Cassia informs them sadly. The offer her their sympathies, and give them food and drink for free. She gladly accepts, also on behalf of Milo. They had agreed that she do the talking. It is obvious from her fine hands, speech and manners that she is a high born lady, whereas his appearance shows that he is clearly not. His accent will furthermore betray that he is not from around, which makes it even more likely that they will be asked difficult questions; what would a noble lady being wandering on the road with a barbarian for?

Unfortunately, there is no horse for sale in the village. She uses some of her jewellery to buy a thick blanket, a drinking bowl that can be tied to the horse’s saddle, another knife (for him) and clothes more suited for riding and living outdoors (for her). Milo thinks the leather of her jerkin and her rough cotton skirt makes her look even more otherworldly than any dress ever could. She looks, he muses, like a goddess ready for battle. Cassia refuses all offers of lodging, as they do not want to be separated from each other and need to spare their remaining valuables for food.

They ride on towards the north, towards Rome. They chat whilst the horse trots away the miles, getting to know each other better. Cassia tells him about her childhood in Pompeii, which he understands was a happy one, and contained many small adventures with Ariadne. He speaks little of his past – that is not a happy story – but tells her about his people and their special bond with animals.

He notices she can tell passionately about her life, but constantly has to correct herself into speaking about the people she loved in the past tense, still speaking as if they were to walk up beside them at any moment. Every time she catches herself, her face becomes sad. He tries as much as he can to distract her from these unhappy turns of thought. Nevertheless, he would not do anything differently if given the chance; he _has_ managed to save the one person he does care for from the whole of Pompeii.

At twilight, he steers the horse off the road and into the woods again. Again stopping on a small hill with a nearby stream, Milo speaks up. “If we want to spare the horse, I think we will take about nine days to reach Rome, today included. We cannot count on all people being as friendly as the ones we’ve seen today. You no longer have the protection of a wealthy family. If we become separated,” _if I should be captured or killed, he means_ , “I want you to know how to defend yourself. The road is not kind to those that cannot protect themselves.”

She looks frightened at this, but agrees all the same. “I shall start training you after supper. I’m going to hunt some game. If I start a fire, can you keep it going?” He has learned to hunt and build fires in his childhood, and honed this skill on the road from Londinium to Pompeii. It was too costly to feed 30 slaves, so the masters had only brought food for themselves and the slaves were expected to hunt or go hungry. He, perhaps unsurprisingly, is good at catching small game with his throw-knife.

Cassia looks nervous but determined at his question. “I will learn.” Again, he is not surprised that she has no experience in surviving on the road; before, no doubt her servants tended to her every need. He does not find this annoying however; it is hardly her fault and she is clearly not fussed about keeping her hands clean now. She has already started rubbing down the horse, mimicking his movements from yesterday. He quickly builds a small fire, and hands her a knife when she sits next to him.

“Keep this close at hand. Scream if someone approaches.” He’s not taking any chances with her safety. It pains him to let her out of his sight for the first time in over a day, but he needs to find something to eat.

He returns half an hour later with a rabbit. To his pleasant surprise, Cassia has kept the fire going. (“It wasn’t too difficult, Milo. All I had to do was not choke it.”) He quickly skins the rabbit and roasts it over the fire. In the meantime, she uses the thread from her ruined dress and a twig he cut into a sowing needle to change the cleaned rabbit skin into a fur lining for his armour.

“Well, it’s not quite as fine as the silk dresses I used to sow, but I guess it’ll do,” she says as she attaches it to his neckline. He is touched by her kindness, so even though he finds it quite warm here compared to Britannia where he grew up, he wears it. The rabbit tastes quite good, too. All in all, he is not too upset over this turn of his fate. He just wishes he could provide more for this deity-like woman sitting opposite him.

After supper, he bid her stand up. He grabs two short sticks from the ground and passes her one. “First, we practice with these. It is about the same size as the knife I gave you, though much lighter. You need to strengthen your shoulders and arms later, but first we practice your aim and speed.”

She nods, but looks nervous. “Right. Milo, what if I hurt you?”

He smiles. “Then I have nothing more to teach you. I promise I will not harm you though.”

“I know. You would never hurt me. I trust you, my champion.”

These simple words leave him momentarily breathless. He shakes his head and moves to stand behind her. He guides her body into the best pose for fighting, willing himself not to be distracted by the feeling of her supple form moving in front of his body. He tells himself there will be time for that later and concentrates on the lesson, showing her how to disarm someone coming at her with a knife.

She picks the movements up quickly enough, but when he stands opposite her and asks her to defend herself as he comes at her with his ‘knife’ she clearly struggles. He overpowers her without even trying, and presses his stick to her throat without any difficulty.

“Again.”

They drill the same movement several times over, but it is clear that she has trouble with the idea of harming another person. On the one hand he does not understand her at all – if the choice was between him or his opponent, he knows which choice he would make. He has made it thousands of times – on the other hand, he hates himself for ruining something so pure. So precious. He wills himself to ignore that inner voice, knowing it is a luxury she can no longer afford.

When it gets too dark to practice anymore, they turn down to sleep. Cassia offers to keep first watch, though Milo insists on covering her with the blanket. He is not cold at all, but has noticed her shivering several times last night. He falls asleep quickly.

Cassia wakes him an hour or so before dawn. He is pleased to see she fares much better under the blanket and in her leather clothes than under the dress from before, appearing no longer cold. She falls asleep quickly too, with her head in his lap and his arm around her shoulders. He feels perfectly content and softly strokes her hair.

\--

The second and third day pass much as the first full day of riding north. For breakfast they eat the now stale bread given to them by the first villagers they encountered. They bathe in rivers and streams, and brush their hair with twigs. They pass through three more villages, each shocked to hear about the fate of Pompeii. At night, they practice with sticks, and Cassia feels like she improves marginally.

Each night, Cassia is glad to see Milo falls asleep looking a little more happy than the day before, showing more emotion. She knows his mask was there for a reason, but she is pleased to know it is gradually crumbling, that she is seeing the real him. She personally feels a little more sore every day she's sleeping rough. Also she never feels quite clean anymore, missing the bathhouse almost as much as her feather bed. Yet she refuses to complain. She knows Milo is going above and beyond to make her feel safe and comfortable, the least she can do is be grateful.

The only times she forgets about the loss of her family is when they sit on horseback, talking about everything and nothing, their plans for the future and their dreams and goals. Milo tells her he never expected to be a free man, to which she responds he was the most free man she had ever met, even when he was in chains. She tells him how awful it had been in Rome, where nobody had really seen her, but only a pretty face with a lot of gold. He answers she is more lovely now than ever before.

It is only on the morning of the fourth day that danger strikes again.

They have ridden for an hour when in the distance, they can see a group of rough looking men approaching them on the road. Two of the men sit on horseback. Milo quickly dismounts the horse before they notice them.

“What are you doing?” Cassia asks him, surprised at his quick movements.

“They should not see me on the same horse as you. This way, they might think I am your servant or bodyguard.” He takes the reigns from the horse, leading it at a footpace. He keeps his eyes on the road, giving off a demure appearance, but she can tell from the way his muscles bulge he is keeping all his senses spit for the men approaching them.

“Well well, what have we here?” The leader of the group says with a false leer as they draw level. “A lady sitting on a horse like a man. I never!”

Milo snarls at him, but Cassia responds first. “I am sure you will understand my position when you get further south, sir.”

“You from Pompeii? Is it true that all the citizens are dead?” The man speaks in a harsh tone, apparently not realising or caring this topic might be painful for them.

“It is. There is nothing left anymore.” Cassia wills her face to remain impassive.

“Now that I don't believe. There has to be plenty of gold laying around.” His greedy eyes travel over her body. “And if you just give us the gold you're carrying, you can be on your merry way, too, darling.” He leers.

Several of his men step forward. Milo draws his sword and moves to block their way. “Not a step closer, or I will kill you all. Cassia, move away.” She does as he bids and steers the horse onto the grass on the side of the road, some twenty paces away from the group. She notices some men following her with their eyes.

“What, one of you against the six of us?” The leader mocks Milo. “Out of the way, slave.” He draws his own sword and guides his horse forward, but Milo is faster. He spins around, avoiding the other man’s blade by inches and plunges his knife into the upper leg of the man. When he pulls it out, a fountain of blood spurts from the leader’s leg. He falls to the ground and doesn't move.

She had seen him fight before, of course, but this feels different somehow. It is much closer, now that she knows him and he is her only link to the world. She screams as the other five move in.

\--

He kills them quickly and efficiently. Really, they were amateurs, not well trained and not making use of their higher number at all. With his sword in his right hand and his knife in his left, both dripping wet with blood, he turns back to Cassia.

She has dismounted to keep the horse from bolting at the smell of blood. Her back is towards him. He drops the weapons as he walks towards her.

“Are you okay?” He asks, keeping his voice gentle, remembering her scream of fear.

“I'm fine.” She says, her voice unnaturally tight. “Those men were cruel. I should be glad they are dead.” She turns around to face him and pulls him into a tight embrace. “I was so scared. Please don’t leave me. I don’t think I could bear losing you, too.”

He feels overwhelmed, realising again with all his soul that he fights for something more than his own skin. He fights for her, now, too. He puts his arms around her. “I will never leave you, my sweet girl.”

He looks around, knowing what unpleasant task lies ahead and wanting to spare her. One of the two horses the men rode on waits nearby, the other has bolted a little ways back on the road but is still within sight. “Why don’t you try if the last horse will come to you. We could use a third horse.” She nods and walks back towards the horse. He hoists the six corpses to the side of the road, putting them down under the trees, out of sight. He also searches each body quickly. Three of them have a small purse, each containing a few silvers and some coppers. He smiles at the turn of his luck; this will be enough to get them to Rome without difficulty. There is even enough to buy entry into a bathhouse in the next town they stop in. He knows Cassia would like that.

With three horses, they can alternate to give each horse a little rest. Their own faithful horse, tired from constantly carrying two people on its back, is glad to be unloaded for a while, merrily trotting next to Milo. In the next town, which they reach as evening falls, she buys them a room at an inn, using some of the money from their attackers. It has but a single bed. When the innkeeper looks at her inquiringly, she says that Milo will sleep on the floor against the door, to ward off potential threats. “My father takes no risks when it comes to my safety,” she lies smoothly. At this, Milo smiles wanly. He wonders what her father would think if he saw her now, with him – a barbarian gladiator – as her sole companion. Then he remembers her father stepping aside as senator Corvus made moves on his daughter, and is not very inclined to give a damn what the man would think. He knows better than to tell Cassia this, though.

After they booked the room and seen their horses put safely in the stables, he walks her to the bathhouse. She looks delighted and he is glad that he thought of this. As she moves to walk in, he steps aside. She walks back to him.

“Won’t you join me?”

“Nah, I’ll just wash at the inn later.” He doesn’t particularly feel comfortable being without weapons near so many people. Besides, removing his arm guards would mean confirming his status, which means they would kick him out anyway. There must be something in his eyes, because while Cassia looks like she wants to argue further, she just nods and walks into the bathhouse.

He debates with himself if he should wait outside the bathhouse for her, but realises quickly that he is drawing attention to himself just standing there. He wanders through the town, picking up pieces of gossip here and there. Most of it is useless, but some concern Pompeii.

“… heard that the city is just wiped off the map…”

“… apparently the emperor Titus has sent soldiers to salvage what is possible…”

“… should kill all the refugees that come from there. They bring the wrath of the gods with them…”

Deciding that he has heard enough, Milo makes his way back to the bathhouse. As Cassia walks out, it takes all his restraint not to kiss her right then and there. While they had been able to wash most of the road grime off in streams they came across, she now looks fully refreshed, with her hair properly combed, braided and smelling of some delicious flowery oil. Her eyes are sparkling with new energy and she smiles broadly when she spots him.

“You look amazing,” he tells her honestly. She blushes and he looks at her rosy cheeks, feeling a new hunger for her stirring. They walk to the inn, where they have a quick supper. Milo has difficulty taking his eyes off of her the entire time. Finally, when they are alone in their room, he locks the door and starts to strip. As he makes for the washing bowl, he hears her move.

“Let me.” She says softly as he dips the washing cloth in the water. She takes it tenderly from him and wipes away the blood and grime accumulated on his body. They are standing so close that he barely dares to breathe in fear of scaring her away. When she reaches his below his waistline however, he makes to grab her hand.

“Don’t. I…” He doesn’t know how to finish that sentence. _I want you too much? I might not be able to stop myself?_ All he knows is that he never wants to hurt her, never wants to do anything she is not comfortable with.

She looks at him with large, trusting eyes. “I want to. I want you.” She moves their joined hands to her breasts. “And I think… you want me, too.” He almost groans as she undoes the laces of her leather jerkin and it slides to the floor. He closes the gap between them and kisses her passionately. He moves her backwards to the bed and guides her down on it. Sinking to his knees, Milo buries his face between her thighs.

\--

The next morning, Cassia wakes feeling pleasantly sore. Last night with Milo had been amazing. Gods, the things he could do with his tongue... She blushes again thinking about it. In her sleep she has crawled half on top of Milo, her head now resting on his chest and her arm around his waist. He lies between her and the door, and somehow she doesn’t think that is a coincidence. She also notices that his sword is within his arms reach. She has never met a man so poised for battle as him. But she guesses it is not too strange, given there has hardly been a day in his life where he did not fight.

As soon as she starts to roll away, his arm tightens around her. “Milo, we have to get up.” She kisses the side of his face tenderly, placing kisses there and moving towards his mouth. As his arms move towards her face, a red burn on his skin draws her attention. She sits up and takes his right arm in her hands.

The mark indicating him as a slave stands out against his skin.

Her supposedly great civilisation has done this to him. She feels suddenly sick to her stomach. Now she also understands why he never takes off his armguards, or why he refused to come with her to the bathhouse yesterday.

She looks up to see him silently regarding her. “You didn’t know?” He asks quietly.

Shaking her head, she clarifies: “In Pompeii, we don’t brand people. Besides, Ariadne was more like a friend to me than a servant. I would never do that to her or to anyone.” She brings his arm to her lips and kisses the mark softly. “I am so sorry this happened to you.”

He cups her face in his hands. “So am I, but now that I have a chance at freedom with you, I am never letting go.” And he pulls her down for a heated kiss.

They leave the inn an hour later, gathering their three horses from the stable and buying a loaf of fresh bread from the innkeeper. He regards them suspiciously, but Cassia ignores him. Let him think what he will. As far is she is concerned, Milo is a free man and she does not feel any shame for loving him.

Their journeying is still moving at the same pace as before. Whilst they now have three horses and should make better time, Milo starts to kiss her every time they stop to stretch their legs. Her training also takes a serious hit; instead of pretending to come at her with a knife, he abandons pretence halfway through and kisses her instead. They make love again when they camp that night under the stars. He places her so tenderly on the blanket that she thinks he is afraid she might break. She is careful not to touch his back as he moves on top of her, mindful of the wounds he still has from the lashing he received. He notices her hesitation and looks at her inquisitively.

“Do they still hurt?” She asks timidly.

“A little,” he smiles, “but I’ve had worse.” He guides her hands to a faint scar on his left upper leg, where clearly a sword had once pierced his skin, then to a large scar just under his left collarbone and to the back of his left shoulder. “A spear went through,” he explains softly, stroking her unblemished arms with his roughened fingers. “I was lucky it missed all the important bits and that my masters at the time were willing to pour wine onto the wound.”

She shivers despite the soft night and his warm body on top of her. “How can you stand me, Milo? Given where I come from? What my people have done to you?”

“Never speak like that, darling. I know you are different. When you came with me on that horse the first time, you urged me to ride to freedom, despite the cost to yourself. Then I knew you were never like them. They would never raise a finger to help me, and you were willing to risk it all. Like you are doing now, just by being with me. That is why I love you. You are so brave, so kind.” He kisses her. “So beautiful.”

“You… you love me?” She hoped he might, thought so, even, but it was quite something else to hear it from his mouth.

He laughs. “Of course I do, silly girl. How could I not?” And for the rest of the night, he shows her just how much.

\--

On the sixth night – or rather early in the seventh morning, he had taken first watch that night – of their journey to Rome, Milo sleeps deeply. He had taken to falling asleep with his head in her lap as she sat up to keep watch, and never slept better. He knows she's having trouble falling asleep on the hard ground, despite feeling exhausted from traveling, and feels guilty over it. However, he has never in his life slept on a feather bed and is used to the ground’s unforgiving feeling on his back.

He wakes to Cassia shaking his shoulder. “Milo, wake up. I think I heard someone.” He jolts upright at the sound of her voice, sword ready in hand. 

Listening intently, he hears two voices coming closer. They sound way too loudly, like their owners aren't even trying to be quiet. 

Turning to Cassia, he speaks softly. “If I give you a boost, can you climb the tree? Hide between the branches.” She nods and puts her leg out for a boost up. She hasn’t disappeared from sight for more than two seconds before two men walk out of the woods from the other side of the tree.

“Look, Silvius, I told you there was horse tracks!” A tall man says as he approaches their horses. 

“I never said they weren't horse tracks.” The shorter man, Silvius, mumbles back grumpily. “I'm just saying that if anyone takes their horse so far into the woods, they can't be up to much good. I only steal things when there's no risk, you know that. Let’s just go, it's creepy here. Silvanus help us.” 

Milo steps from behind the tree, sword drawn. The tall man draws his sword, whereas the man called Silvius jumps and looks ready to bolt. 

“What are you doing here?” Milo asks brusquely. 

“We was interested in who was leaving horse tracks in the middle of nowhere. You all alone? What does you need three horses for?” The tall man answers. 

“None of your business. I suggest you keep walking.” Milo keeps his glare fixed on the tall man. (He spares a glance to the second man, but that one does not seem to be in a fighting mood. He knows however, that this could change in a second.)

The tall man appraises him as well. Milo can see the second he comes to a decision. “I’d rather leave on horseback!” Shouting the last word, the man leaps forward. In three strokes, Milo disarms him, and with the fourth he drives his sword through his heart. The man crumples to the ground, unmoving.

Then Milo turns to the second man. Silvius draws a dagger, but from the way his arm shakes it is clear he hasn't used it much before. Before Milo can walk over and put him out of his misery, he hears Cassia jump out of the tree. 

“Milo, no!” He twists back to look at her, his sword still pointing at the second 'robber’. He sees her get to her feet a little wobbly. 

“Oh, Diana have mercy, a wood-elf,” he hears Silvius mumble. He drops his dagger and falls to his knees in prayer.

Cassia looks much like a wood-elf indeed, Milo muses, as she stalks determinedly over to him, in her leather jerkin and with her hair braided tightly behind her head. “Milo, don't kill him. He is no threat to us,” she urges. 

He suddenly has a flashback to when she pleaded for his life with senator Corvus. Unlike him, this man looks terrified to die. He sheaths his sword and addresses him. “Leave and don't come back.” 

Silvius doesn't need to be told twice. He scrambles to his knees and blunders back into the woods. Milo keeps listening until his footsteps have completely faded away. He walks over to Cassia, who stands studying the corpse of the tall man. 

“He looks skinny. He must have been hungry. Desperate, even.” She bends down and closes his eyes. As she straightens, Milo hugs her tightly. 

“You saved his friend's life. It was probably more than he deserved.” From the poor state of his clothes and the way his sword has nicks and cuts in it, Milo guesses this man doesn't have any money on him. 

He wraps his arm around her shoulder and kisses the side of her head. When he turns them back towards the horses though, she lets out a pained hiss and buckles down. He is glad he is holding her, so she doesn’t fall down. 

“Cassia! What is wrong?” He asks, alarmed. 

“Nothing. It’s just my ankle. It hurt when I jumped from the tree.” She makes a move to walk along, gingerly putting her weight on her right foot, but he won’t have it. 

“Maybe you’d better sit down for a while.” He scoops her up and carries her over to a nearby fallen tree. “Let me have a look.” He carefully examines her right ankle. Like the rest of her, it is delicate. As he feels for broken bones, she lets out another pained breath. 

“I don’t think anything is broken,” he says, feeling immensely relieved, “it looks like a sprain. It needs to be wrapped, or it’ll swell. Do you still have the remains of your dress?” 

“In the saddlebag.” She sighs. He quickly grabs what’s left of her dress and tears it into strips. Taking care not to jostle her foot more than necessary, he binds it carefully. 

“Okay, this should help. I’ve seen it plenty of times, it’ll take a few days before you should put your weight on it. Come on, I’ll help you onto a horse.” He lifts her into the saddle and gathers up his sword before jumping on his own horse, leaving the clearing behind them. 

\--

Now that they are closer to Rome, villages turn into towns and inns are thicker on the ground. On the one hand, she is glad of the prospect of sleeping in a real bed. On the other, she dreads going back to Rome. Even though senator Corvus is dead, he was not the only one lusting after her – just the worst one. Though she figures she should be less of a prize now, with the majority of her father’s wealth forever destroyed. 

During the long hours on horseback, she muses quietly to herself on the fact that Milo is different in that regard. He doesn’t seem to care for riches or comforts of any kind. Well, that’s not strictly true. While he seems perfectly content for _him_ to sleep in the open, he insists that _she_ should sleep in a real bed tonight. She thinks he feels guilty over not being able to provide her with the same level of comfort as she was used to. She resolves to speak about this before they enter Rome. 

During the day Milo is even more attentive than usual. At nightfall, Milo checks them into an inn. He supports her everywhere – acting as her crutch after she refused to be picked up like a child – to make sure she doesn’t put too much pressure on her ankle. It draws some stares from the innkeeper and other guests as they hobble through the inn into their room – him taking most of her weight anyway, despite her best efforts. He has their meal delivered and after they are done eating he comes over to help her to the bed. 

While she probably should be annoyed, his concern makes her feel… precious. She smiles at him as he fusses over her. “My wonderful, protective darling, I am alright. Do not worry.” She takes his hand and pulls him up on the bed with her. 

He strokes her hair as he speaks. “Cassia, I cannot help but worry. I am putting you through perils you have never faced before. Leaving you open to attacks from horse thieves and worse, not to mention hunger, pain… Have you ever even sprained something before today?” His hand moves down to her face, touching her as if she were the most delicate flower.

“I have not. But also I had never climbed a tree, or made a real difference in a man’s life before I met you. And I know that life will not be the easy with you, but if I wanted that I would have married senator Corvus when he first proposed to me. You should know: if I had to trade in my old luxury life for this new freedom, I would do it without question.” She smiles. “Just perhaps we can find a bedroll to bring with us when we leave Rome.”

At this, he laughs. “Deal. With three horses, we can use one for supplies.” It is she first time she hears him laugh and she revels in the sound, wanting to hear it more often.

She bites her lip. “Milo, are you sure you want to go to Rome? I can go on my own to take care of business. It will be at least a week, and I don’t think you will be happy in the eternal city.” She has seen how much more alive he is in the wilderness, and in retrospect, how miserable he was in Pompeii. 

He shakes his head. “I am coming with you. Yes, it will be unpleasant, but I am not leaving you there alone, without protection. You need someone to scare off people who mean you harm, sweetheart, and I don’t think anybody in Rome will believe you to be a wood-elf, no matter how convincing you were today.” He teases, making her laugh. This is the first time _she_ has laughed out loud since the destruction of Pompeii, and she is happy to be with him here and now.

\--

Despite his words, he feels a familiar dread creeping up as they ride through the city walls of Rome around midday two days later. He feels his mask is slipping in place again, so he does not show any emotions at being back in the lion’s den. 

“Where is your house?” He asks quietly to Cassia. 

“Still some ways from here. On the other side of those two hills.” She guides her horse forwards and he has no choice but to follow her. They draw some looks from people on the street, which only intensify as they come closer to the house and the neighbourhood becomes more fancy. Cassia had visited a bathhouse that morning again, but despite her scrubbed hands and perfumed hair, her clothes and lack of jewellery make her stand out. His outfit, still unchanged since he stepped into the arena almost ten days ago, is worse for the wear and clearly marks him as a servant and gladiator. 

When they step through the front gates of the house – more like a tiny villa – however, three servants immediately come running. “Lady Cassia! You’re alive!” They fuss over her, helping her dismount and start panicking over her bandaged foot. Milo is completely ignored and is thankful for it. He looks around; the place is beautiful and just in the entryway he can spot several expensive vases and statutes. If they can sell all this, they can stock up provisions for a safe passage to the other side of the world. 

“Please, we are very tired and want to rest. See to our horses and bring some food to our rooms. Milo will have the room next to mine.” Cassia orders with grace; he notices it comes naturally to her. 

“But my lady!” An older servant protests. “This man is…” He doesn’t need to finish his sentence to make his meaning clear. _A servant, a slave, the scum of the earth._ Milo feels his mask close back into place. Cassia looks unhappily at him before addressing the servant. 

“This man saved my life when the gods’ wrath came to Pompeii. He has sworn to keep me safe and he will have the room next to mine. That is final.” After that, they are settled into the villa quickly. A washing bowl is brought to his room and a clean garb is placed on his bed as he washes. While it feels pleasant to be clean, he misses his armour. He keeps his armguard on.

He makes his way to her room and knocks on the door. A servant appears. “The lady Cassia is changing. I suggest you wait outside.” As he waits, one of the servants runs to fetch a medicus for a look at Cassia’s ankle. He sneaks into the room as the other servant in attendance goes to get her something to eat. 

He finds her sitting on the edge of a divan, biting her lip, but smiling as he walks in. “You look refreshed.” She observes. Looking at the dark blue tunic he is wearing, she smiles wider. “It looks good on you.” He thinks she looks much more like the lady he met that first day on the road. She wears a dress again, and some fancy jewels.

He kneels down before her. “Are you alright?” Being back here must dredge up some memories for her, he thinks. He presses their foreheads together, absentmindedly stroking her neck and touching the necklace there.

“My mother’s,” she explains. “It was a gift from my father to her. She had forgotten it when we stayed here together last. She said it didn’t matter, she would get it back next time they were here.” Tears run over her cheeks. He wipes them away with his thumb. 

“You should bring it with you when we go.” He says quietly. “That way, you’ll have something to remember them by.” From her grateful smile, he is glad he suggested it.

When the medicus arrives, he removes the bandages from her ankle. Inspecting it and declares it well healed, though he insists she wear firm boots instead of her usual slippers, for extra support. “You bandaged it, slave?” He addresses Milo. Ignoring the name-calling, Milo nods. This man is here to help Cassia, he can take it. “It was well done. Make sure the lady doesn’t walk too far or long. I’ll take my leave, call for me if the pain has not gone in three days.”

While Cassia looks ready to protest, privately, Milo completely agrees with the medicus. They had decided before they reached the city that he would present himself as her bodyguard for now. That means keeping her body safe, even from herself. The rest of the afternoon, she is occupied with her servants. He keeps close to her, but can hardly offer any input in the running of a household. 

“Tomorrow, I will visit an old friend of my fathers, former senator Augus. Please inform him of our intention to visit,” she says as she dispatches one of the servants to deliver the message. Softly, she adds to Milo, “Hopefully he can help me sell enough furniture and perhaps even the whole house. With any luck, we can be gone in a week.”

When they say goodnight, though he lies for the first time in his life on a feather bed, he has trouble falling asleep without her next to him.

The next morning they make to visit this Augus. As she is playing the proper lady again, she can no longer ride on horseback. Instead, she rides in a litter. He can tell she hates it. He walks beside her as they navigate through the streets of Rome. He walks _behind_ her as they enter the villa of former senator Augus. From this point, he knows, he cannot be the free man he has become in the last ten days, nor take the liberties he takes in Cassia’s villa. The mask must stay firmly in place if he doesn't wish to be gelded again. 

He barely listens to Cassia and their host exchanging condolences and pleasantries. He ignores them when they discuss a strategy for selling the house - Cassia was right to ask him for help, that much Milo notices. They say their goodbyes after a few hours, after Augus promises to inquire discreetly if there are any interested parties for the house and its furniture, asking her to return the day after tomorrow.

The day after – their third day in Rome – they visit the market place. Here, he feels more at home than in the terribly fancy villas. There is a lot of shouting, haggling, pushing and shoving. Whereas before he wouldn't really have minded the latter, with Cassia by his side, he is on twice as high alert for any unwanted touches. She walks around freely, enjoying herself – which makes his task of protecting her that much harder. He tries to look at all corners at once and snarls several times at people getting too close. They back away swiftly, to his grim pleasure.

By the time they return to the villa, Milo has developed a headache, but at least he is happy with the purchases they made. They haven’t really discussed where they are going or how, but it will be north of Rome, and thus colder than she is used to. He is thinking they should ride east and buy passage on a ship headed north. This way, they can avoid travelling through the mountains, which were already a hardship for him the first time, never mind Cassia. 

He can’t wait to see Cassia in the new outfit she commissioned for traveling: a combination of soft leather, wool and some fine metalwork on her shoulders and midriff. His own order consists of a replica of his gladiator outfit, with a boiled leather armour and including more solid metalwork. He has turned down a full soldier’s metal plate, thinking it would slow him down too much in a fight. Instead, the tailor suggested some metal strips sown into the leather armour: making it light-weight but also more solid. Both of them ordered a pair of boots lined with fur. Milo also insisted on two woollen cloaks with fur lining. 

If any of the tailors thought it strange that a highborn lady was ordering a winter wardrobe in spring for her and her servant, they did not show it. Milo assumes they must have had stranger requests made to them. The tailors promised to have it delivered to the house in three days’ time, so any adjustments could be done there.

His headache doesn't improve by the arrival of an unannounced guest later that night. Cassia and he are sitting on the terrace, enjoying a quiet moment, when a servant announces the presence of “Lord Faunus, my lady.” Milo looks at Cassia, and sees her biting her lip, looking troubled. 

“If you do not wish to see him, I can send him away, Cassia.” He offers. It would be his pleasure, too.

“No, we can’t. He is wealthy and influential. We need to stay on good terms if we want to avoid trouble during our stay here.” Speaking to the servant: “Let him in, please.” Back to Milo, softly: “I am sorry for this. Please know I don’t want him, I want to be with you. You must remember that, okay?” 

Before Milo has a chance to process her cryptic words, lord Faunus walks in. “Lady Cassia, my fabulous treasure. How sorry I was to hear about your parents.” The lord, young and handsome, strides in as if he owns the place and halts only inches from Cassia. He grabs her hands in both of his and kisses them. If Milo thought him an arrogant brat upon entry, he positively loathes him now. The young lord takes no notice of him, however. 

“If there is anything I can do for you, my gem, please inform me at once. I should be honoured to come to your aid in this hour of need. All I ask in return is for you to consider my proposal. I believe you remember it? I passionately declared myself last time I saw you. You needed time to think about it, if I remember well. Surely, now is the best time to accept my offer, wouldn’t you say?” He flashes his dimples at her and doesn’t let go of her hands. 

Milo is ready to kill him then and there. How dare he, _how dare he_ put his hands on Cassia and basically _blackmail_ her into espousing him. Milo is two seconds away from throwing caution to the wind and punching Faunus in the face, when Cassia shows him she maybe hasn’t much experience with physical battles, but can hold her own in any argument. 

She smiles sweetly. “Thank you, Lord Faunus. I am surprised you are still interested? I thought you mainly cared for my father’s lands near Pompeii, but seeing as they are all gone now, it must be your good heart. How sweet of you. Though I doubt your father will be pleased at you marrying a woman without wealth or prospects. Don’t you have a brother to whom he could bequeath all his lands if he pleases him more?” It is hardly subtle, Milo thinks, but the point comes across well. Faunus’ face falls and he removes his hands from hers. 

“Surely, my lady, not all the lands are gone? I heard rumours about the destruction of Pompeii, but they must be exaggerated. The gods wouldn’t be so cruel.” 

This time, Cassia’s face becomes hard. “The gods brought the end of the world to Pompeii. If they cared for us at all, I can assure you I wouldn’t be here. Now, is there anything I can help you with?” The young lord doesn’t stay with them for long after that. 

After he leaves, she sighs, looking miserable. “This will spread through the rumour mill quickly. And you wonder if I want to leave all this behind… I have never felt more free than the last few days, nor more locked up now that I am back here.” 

He steps to her. “It’ll be alright. We’ll leave here soon enough.” Or at least, he hopes so. 

\--

They are supposed to visit Augus again today, and she is actually looking forward to it. She hopes he has found someone interested in buying the villa – preferably furnished – so that they can move away as soon as possible. They eat a quick breakfast and Cassia orders the litter to be made ready. As they ride over, even through her litter curtains, Cassia notices the streets are more crowded than yesterday or the day before. Milo looks more on edge than usual. She remarks on this to Augus after their greetings. 

“Yes, today is Lemuria, the festival of the dead. With the tragedy that struck Pompeii, people have more to commemorate than usual. I’m afraid the atmosphere is not as solemn as other years, rather more angry. Many people are blaming the priests and other dignified for not having been able to prevent the gods from acting on their wrath.”

“I understand them all too well.” Cassia replies, feeling somewhat bitter. “But what is done is done, there is no point in being irate. It won’t bring back the dead.” 

“No, it will not.” Augus shakes his head sadly. “Now, come with me to the terrace my dear, and I will tell you all about the parties interested in your house. There is one high functionary that wishes to remain anonymous but that I think will be a a serious candidate…” A few hours later, Cassia says farewell to Augus, thanking him for his help. She is glad he has found a buyer for their house and its furnishings so quickly, even if the prospective interested party refuses to divulge their name. Augus will bring the buyer to inspect the property the next day, and if all is to his liking, the buyer will pay good money. With the sum Augus suggests she ask, she knows she and Milo can live a comfortable life outside the Roman empire. 

Once out the door she notices some noises coming from the other side of the street. She looks closer and sees a crowd moving their way. They must be worshippers on their way to a nearby temple, but the whole atmosphere is angry and threatening.

“Let’s go back on foot. We can pick up your litter later.” Milo says, an urgent tone to his voice. Like her, he must be thinking this could get ugly pretty quick. Unfortunately, his warning comes too late, and the crowd swallows them. Milo grabs her hand tightly and moves her to the side of the street, away from the thick of it. Suddenly, she feels a harsh shove of a pointy elbow in her stomach and falls to the ground, her hand wrenched from Milo’s. She looks up dazed but Milo is no longer at her side, the crowd having separated them. When she tries to stand up, a man strikes her across the face without warning. She falls back to the ground. _Oh gods, this is it, she will die here, suffocated and trampled by an angry mob…_

Seemingly out of nowhere, Milo is by her side again, knocking the man to the ground like it is nothing. She thinks she hears a crack as the man’s jaw breaks. Milo scoops her up and she presses her face into his neck. When she looks up again, they are in a park four streets from Augus’ home. He puts her down gently, looking concerned though the anger has also not faded from his eyes. 

“Are you okay?” He makes a motion as if to lift up her chin to inspect the bruise on her cheekbone, but she jerks her head back. 

“Don’t touch me!” The image of him punching that man to the ground flashes across her mind.

He looks as if _she_ struck _him_. “I need to see if it’s broken. I won’t hurt you.” Slowly, he places his fingers on her cheek. She closes her eyes, but his fingers remain gentle and are actually nice and cool against her throbbing cheekbone. 

“It does not appear broken, just bruised.” He says quietly.

“I’m sorry.” She whispers back. “I know you won’t hurt me. I was just startled.” It makes her feel cowardly, but she never had that much violence directed at her before. Tears well up in her eyes. She blinks them away furiously. What must he think of her? He faced thousands of armed men that were actively trying to kill him, and she can’t even take a punch. “You must think I’m stupid.”

“Hey now, my precious girl, it’s alright. You’re safe now, with me.” Milo kisses the uninjured side of her face tenderly. “Let’s get you home, okay?” 

She nods, biting her lip. “I guess those self-defence lessons were a waste of time.” 

“You are delicate.” He simply remarks as he gives her a once over and hugs her close. She wonders what he is thinking right now. His voice is cold when he says: “Just take comfort in the fact that he won’t be doing it again, if he’s got any brains at all.” _If he’s still alive_ , she thinks. He might have been trampled by the crowd. And in any case, if his jaw is broken, he will probably die soon anyway. 

It seems like a harsh penalty to her.

\--

He holds Cassia tight the entire way home. Only the feeling of her body pressed to his prevents him from lashing out in rage at everyone that comes too close. He now wishes he had gutted the man that struck her, Cassia’s frightened tears fuelling his anger. Yet he knows he must not show it. He had scared her when he made to touch her cheek, which is not a sensation he enjoys. 

He takes a deep breath and wills himself to calm down. Gods, he loathes this city. When her hand slipped out of his, his heart nearly stopped. He doesn’t know what he would have done if he hadn’t spotted her again through a small opening in the crowd. (Actually, he does. It would have been a bloody mess, that would end up with him being arrested.)

When they arrive back in the villa, she mumbles about wanting a change of clothes, so he walks her to her room. He ignores the servants that come running and just marches through her bedroom door, bolting it from the inside. Other people be damned, he is not letting her out of his sight. 

He well remembers the first time a man knocked him to the ground. He had been with his family still, a boy of seven. His uncle had started training him in the art of war. He had cried, but his uncle had beaten him again, until he got to his feet and fought back. Somehow, he smiles wanly to himself, he can’t picture Cassia doing that. She was just too fragile… Too sweet. 

He helps her out of her dress carefully, with slow, clearly telegraphed motions. Anything to make her feel safe again. When he unbuckles the last of the clasps holding her dress up and it slides to the floor, she steps forwards out of it and presses herself against his body. When she angles her head up to kiss him softly on his lips, he groans quietly. 

“Please, Milo, please, I want you. Make me feel good…” Her voice is little more than a breathless whisper. He can only think, _yes, anything,_ as he walks backwards, pulling her with him to the bed. If it were up to him, he would spend hours worshipping her body. As he can’t think of any reasons not to, he proceeds to do just that. 

Later that night, he rises from her bed with great difficulty, to go to his bedroom. She protests softly, half asleep already and looking, to his great satisfaction, thoroughly ravished. “Stay with me?” He dares the world to try and stop him. He makes to lay behind her, so her soft form is enveloped in his. He strokes her hair as he speaks. 

“When we are on the road together, we will sleep under the stars and be free. I will teach you how to build a fire and we don’t have to speak with nobody at all. Nobody will judge us or tear us apart. I’ll make love to you every night and kiss you every day. I’ll keep you safe and kill anyone who hurts you. I love you, so much.” He keeps speaking until she falls asleep, and doesn’t leave her bed until early next morning, when he hops over the gap separating their two balconies and lies down in his own, cold bed, but the memory of her body in his arms warming him.

\--

In the morning, Cassia wakes up feeling well rested. The previous nights, when she had slept alone, she had felt as if there was something missing. Even though she had only fallen asleep next to Milo for the ten days they travelled together, she had gotten so used to his hands stroking her hair and the solid feeling of his warm body next to hers that she had trouble sleeping without it. 

She feels her face with her fingers, her cheekbone is a little delicate to touch. A quick look in the mirror shows that it is slightly more red than usual, but not blue or green, thankfully. She is looking forward to today; their new clothes should arrive, and the buyer for the house should be coming this afternoon, too. 

She dresses quickly and knocks on Milo’s door. “Milo, are you awake?” 

“Aye,” his voice sounds from the other side of the door. He opens it, wearing nothing more than his underpants. “Miss me already?” 

She can’t help it, she briefly reaches out to touch his pectorals. Even though she has spent the entirety of last night touching, kissing and admiring them, she can’t seem to get enough. “Yes.” She simply answers. His breathing hitches and his gaze drops to her lips. Just as he leans in however, a servant turns the corner. She hastily takes a step back. 

“My lady, there are some deliveries made that require your presence. And,” a slight hesitation, “your companion’s as well.”

“That must be our clothes.” She says excitedly. She hurries down the hall, Milo following behind her as soon as he put on his tunic. Three tailors stand waiting for them and bid them please change into the new clothes, so that the final alterations can be made where necessary. She changes quickly, satisfied to note that she can easily change into these clothes herself. She had specifically requested for all the laces to be in places she could reach herself – as there wouldn’t be a servant around to help her. She and Milo each step on a small stool the tailor has brought, so he can check their outfits. 

The two parts of her dress are made up of cotton, with a layer of wool and with a leather cover that can be attached over it. This way, she can choose how many layers she wants to wear. Delicate metalwork holds it all together. The skirt splits in the front and the back, making it possible for her to ride on horseback with her legs covered. The cotton and wool layers could be fastened together by a few small straps, either to become a closed skirt or to become trousers. 

The tailor does not seem happy when demonstrating this feature, clearly considering it to be barbaric that she wishes to wear trousers, but she had been explicit in her directions. This was just much more practical for horseback riding. To her amusement, Milo also doesn’t seem to appreciate this demonstration. Or rather, she thinks, doesn’t appreciate where the tailor moves his hands to fasten the straps (the middle of her thigh). Milo’s got a protective and slightly possessive streak to him that she secretly loves, but honestly, this man is just doing his job and makes sure not to touch her at all. She just laughs and rolls her eyes at him.

After she has approved all the ways her dress can be altered, the tailor moves to Milo. He explains briefly the way the straps work and how the inner layer of leather of his armour has been strengthened by thin iron strips. On the outside, she thinks, it looks exactly like his gladiator outfit, only of a higher quality. She can’t help but think he looks incredibly attractive in it. Milo seems to approve as well. 

\--

He was right to think it; Cassia looks otherworldly in her leather dress. Nothing like the fancy upper-class lady that she is, but more like she belongs with him. He likes it. The rest of the clothes – the cloaks and shoes – also pass inspection (she leaves that to him; he knows more about adverse weather conditions than she). 

They spend the afternoon packing the saddlebags. The top layers of her new clothes, together with a bedroll, tarp, rope, a pot and the drinking cup they purchased on their way to Rome, are put in. It would be a harsh life on the road, especially for Cassia, but at least they are better prepared than when they left Pompeii.

There is only one thing left before they can leave this city, and that is to meet the buyer of the house. His arrival is announced shortly before supper. “Senator Augus and his invitee, Lady Cassia.” 

Cassia makes her way down to the reception area, Milo walking a few paces behind her. “Ah, Lady Cassia, how good it is to see you again.” Augus says. “May I present to you Roman hero and patron of the arts, consul Marcus Valerius Corvus.” 

“Lady Cassia, how nice to meet you.” He bends to kiss her hand. His face doesn’t betray any emotion when he says, “I believe you were acquainted with my brother?”

Milo stares into the face of consul Corvus. He even looks like his brother. This is no coincidence, he’s sure of it. However, there is nothing he can do without drawing attention to himself, without letting them know he is more than a bodyguard. He realises all this in the second Cassia hesitates. Then she puts on a smile and extends her hand. “My lord... Corvus. Welcome to our home.”

“Our home, Lady Cassia? Are your parents with you?” The consul smiles, but it is a cold smile, filled with the disdain Milo is used to seeing in rich Romans when they look down on people. It is exactly the same smile he got from his brother, _senator_ Corvus in Pompeii.

“No, my lord. They passed in the destruction of Pompeii, like your brother.” Cassia replies, but she sounds unsure. Milo hates being trapped like this. There is nothing they can do but play ignorant. They can’t very well admit to killing this man’s brother, not unless they both want to end up dead. 

“Yes, I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. You must have been close by my brother when the disaster occurred. I believe he mentioned something about asking for your hand, as you had gotten along so well during your stay in Rome.” _Shit._ Milo wonders, _how much does he know?_

Cassia is at a loss for words. Milo can’t help it, he steps in. “My lords, won’t you follow me to the sitting room? Your supper is served.” He looks at Cassia, willing her to understand the look in his eyes: don’t panic. There is no one but them that knows what went down in Pompeii. As long as they don’t make mistakes the consul will be none the wiser of how exactly his brother died. _Chained to a post after he tried to kill both of them_ …

Cassia regains her composure as they walk down the hall. “That is right, my lord. I was glad to accept his hand when he asked me during the games of Vinalia. I was sorry to learn of his fate,” she lies convincingly.

“You were sorry to learn of his fate? You mean you weren’t there with him?” This man is sharp, Milo realises. Not easily fooled. Cassia doesn’t blink, however.

“I was in the villa. I left the games early.” She looks him square in the face. “I wasn’t feeling well at the sight of so much blood.”

“So what exactly happened to my brother when the volcano erupted?”

“He was on the terrace with my parents, watching the games. A beam crushed him.” Which, Milo guesses, is technically true. That didn’t kill him, but still. Cassia, consul Corvus and Augus take their seats in the dining room. The consul’s eyes never leave Cassia. 

“And, pray, how do you know this, if you were in the villa?” Cassia bites her lip. She knows this because he’s told her, Milo knows, but doesn’t know how to phase it. 

“I told her, my lord.” He speaks up and moves to stand next to the divan on which Cassia sits. The consul looks at him for the first time. Milo keeps his hands still at his sides, but is poised for an attack.

“And how would you know, slave?” The consul studies his face intently. 

“I was in the arena when it collapsed. I saw the senator, your brother, when the beam fell on him.” Milo says, his face a mask. 

“Did you now.” His eyes take on a wicked gleam. “And if you were in the arena, how did you end up here in Rome, in the house of my late brother’s fiancé?” 

“The lady Cassia saved my life. I felt honour bound to rescue her.” He sees a flash of hurt on Cassia’s face, and suddenly realises he’s never told her why he came back to the villa. Aye, he came back because her mother asked him. Because she had saved his life (twice). But mostly he came back for her because he felt a connection every time they spoke, every time she touched him, and because he knew he would never forgive himself if he left her there. 

Unfortunately, consul Corvus also sees it.

“Really,” he says softly, his eyes shimmering malevolently. “I find that hard to believe. Let me tell you what I think. You took the lady Cassia, perhaps even against her will, from my brother, and forced your company on her. Then, when the time came, you plotted together to kill my brother, using the volcano as an excuse.” He stands up and spits at Milo’s feet. 

Milo’s hands move towards his sword, and unsheathes it. He knows this will mean his life, either by the consul’s sword or in punishment. The consul copies his move. Milo looks him square in the eye, not caring about his own life but knowing for sure this man must die. He could swear the consul sees it in his eyes, too. But before either can do anything, Cassia saves his life again.

“Consul Corvus, _that is enough_.” Cassia’s voice is ice and fire at the same time, placing herself between them, her back to Milo. “I will not have you come into my house and insult the man who saved my life in every way possible. I must insist you leave at once.”

Consul Corvus takes a deep, heavy breath, calculates the look in Milo’s eyes and as if the gods themselves intervene, steps down. “As you wish, my lady.” He puts on an evil sneer as he looks at Milo. “This isn’t over. I’ll have you whipped and killed, _slave_.” And he storms out of the house. 

Milo, forgetting all the world and done with giving a damn what anyone might think anyway, walks over to Cassia and hugs her tight. “My love, I can’t believe you put yourself between us. Never scare me like that again.” He kisses her fiercely. 

Former senator Augus, who hasn’t said a word as the entire disastrous scene unfolded before him, clears his throat. Cassia and Milo turn to him. To Milo’s great relief, she does not look embarrassed to be caught in such an intimate position with him and doesn’t move out of his arms. “My dear lady Cassia, I am so sorry for bringing that man to your house. I had no idea he would threaten you and yours so. I do hope you can forgive me.”

Cassia smiles kindly at him. “There is nothing to forgive, my lord. You were merely trying to help me.”

“Cassia,” Milo speaks urgently, “we must leave Rome immediately. The consul will be back, and even you can’t stop him.” 

She bites her lip. “We can’t, Milo. We haven’t sold the house yet, there’s no money. We’ll never make it far enough to leave his influence.”

“My lady, I think your champion is right.” Augus speaks up. “You are not safe from consul Corvus’ wrath and must leave as soon as possible. For the love I bore your father, I will buy your villa. I won’t be able to pay as much as the consul, but haste is required now.”

In the end, they leave in under two hours. Augus sends a servant to collect the gold from his house as Milo and Cassia ready themselves and their horses. Milo packs the gold securely in their bags. He straps his sword through his belt and Cassia wears her mother’s necklace over her cotton dress. 

Together, they ride out of Rome, into the night, towards freedom.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so a few things. 
> 
> The title comes from the 1961 activists in the United States during the Civil Rights Movement.
> 
> I know a horse cannot outrun a pyroclastic flow, but yeah.
> 
> I have no idea how safe it was to travel in the Roman empire. I can only imagine not very safe. 
> 
> According to Google maps and some rudimentary calculations I did, it would take around 9 days to go from just-south-of-Pompeii to Rome on horseback. I could be wrong.
> 
> Barbarian was a term used by Romans to indicate any non-Roman. Also I don't know if Romans marked/branded people they conquered, but that was a creative liberty I took to make the horror of what was done to Milo stand out ever further. 
> 
> Silvanus was the god of woodland, and Diana, among others, the goddess of hunt. No clue if Romans believed in wood-elves, but I thought it was funny. I don't really know how superstitious Romans were, but I guessed quite a bit.
> 
> I think news would only travel as fast as the fastest horse, but given that Milo and Cassia take a few breaks on their way, they would not be the first to arrive in Rome and word would have spread about the destruction of Pompeii.
> 
> The profession of medicus was real, though I don't know how advanced medicine was. Milo, as a gladiator, would have seen a few injuries throughout his life, so it made sense to me he knew how to treat some. It would have been better to put ice on the sprain, but ways of storing ice were not yet invented in ancient Rome.
> 
> Travel through the Alps in Roman times was not as smooth and comfortable as it is now, with the nice Swiss roads and tunnels. Milo’s doubt if Cassia could survive it is legit.
> 
> Broken bones could lead to infection, and thus, in a time before antibiotics, death. 
> 
> Lemuria, the festival of the dead, was a real thing, taking place around two weeks after Vinalia. 
> 
> Wearing trousers was something Romans considered only fit for barbarians.
> 
> Marcus Valerius Corvus was a real person too, and a consul, though he lived much later than the destruction of Pompeii. 
> 
> The first scene ("why have we stopped") was heavily inspired by this First Knight scene: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ywCjTcXl7x8 
> 
> The scene where Cassia sprains her ankle was inspired by this scene from Hercules: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6U9xDLlsU4w&t=43s 
> 
> ‘She can’t help it, she briefly reaches out to touch his pectorals’ inspired by this moment at 3:40 from Captain America the First Avenger: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxmHNTyL6B4


End file.
